63. Epilogue 2
L ater that evening, the sitting room was full of life and Lule.
She was already three jokes deep at Crispin's expense, arms flung dramatically across the back of the sofa like she owned the place, when Rahul arrived, balancing a tray of pastries from a bakery she'd apparently "bullied him into visiting under threat of bodily harm."
Crispin volleyed back with dry sarcasm, effortlessly keeping pace, while Aria and Rahul exchanged quietly amused glances from the couch.
Then the doorbell rang again.
Crispin excused himself and returned a moment later with a wide grin on his face. "One more surprise."
Behind him stood an older man with a trimmed white beard and kind eyes that crinkled in the corners-her old neighbor, Khalid.
Aria was already surging to her feet, hands reaching out instinctively. "Jiddo!" she breathed, the name slipping out like a prayer.
But before she could embrace him, Khalid caught her hands gently and shook his head. "La, la, binti. Not so fast in your condition. "
She laughed through the tears that had already begun to fill her eyes. "How are you, Jiddo?"
"I am well," he said, placing a warm, weathered hand on her head in a gesture of blessing. "Better now that I see you blooming like spring."
Her throat thickened with emotion. She clung to his hand for a moment longer, before remembering herself. "Please, come eat. The buffet's just over there."
Crispin stepped in smoothly. "Everything's halal," he added with a polite nod.
Khalid smiled. "Of course it is. You were raised right."
Crispin arched an eyebrow at Aria. "She's been working overtime on me."
Khalid chuckled as he stepped inside, the room bright with laughter and the quiet hum of love threading through it all.
"Where's Dorian?" Aria asked suddenly, looking around.
Lule's face darkened instantly. "If he's coming, I hope he's bringing a public apology and an offering of wine. "
Crispin leaned over and squeezed Aria's hand. "He'll be here."
Alice had stopped by earlier with a small wrapped box and a fond kiss for Aria. She exchanged a loaded glance with Crispin before leaving, and Aria-watching-felt the faint ripple of something...impending.
Then the doorbell rang.
Crispin went to answer it.
A few seconds later, he stepped back into the room, eyes bright with anticipation. "I have a very special gift for you," he said.
Dorian entered first, dressed in charcoal, wearing his best guilty-but-not-sorry grin.
"Peace offering," he said, holding up a bottle of Aria's favourite non-alcoholic wine.
Behind him came a man Aria had never seen before. But her body reacted before her brain could catch up. Her knees felt weak, and Crispin hurried to prop her up.
He was a tall man, a little stooped, and in his late thirties or early forties. There was a limp in his step. His hair was a darker brown than Lule's, but the curls matched. So did the long lashes, the slope of the nose .
And his eyes were pale, haunted and familiar. They were exactly as she remembered-like their father's, like Lule's. That same translucent grey, full of memory and sorrow.
It hit her like a bolt of lightning.
She whispered, voice creaking like an old hinge, "Erjon?"
He nodded, slow and stunned, while taking her in.
Then she was in his arms, clinging to him with a kind of desperation she hadn't known still lived inside her. He held her tightly, his hands rough with work, but his touch unbearably gentle.
"It took me ages to find him," Dorian said softly from the side.
A ragged breath escaped him. "Zemra ime*," he murmured.
Erjon stepped back slightly, still clasping her hands in his. His smile was gentle, broken at the edges, and his grey eyes were wet with tears.
"They caught me that day," he said simply, as if he had practiced what he was going to say a thousand times. "They broke my leg; it got infected." He gestured to his left leg, the prosthetic hidden beneath pressed trousers. "By the time I reached a clinic, it was too late. "
Erjon stepped back slightly, cupping Aria's cheek. His smile was warm but carried the weight of years. "You've grown so much," he said, his voice thick. "You look just like Mami."
She laughed through her tears. "And you, like Babi. His eyes..."
"It took a long time before I got out. By then you both were gone. So, I built a life. I married Elira, you know. She used to go to school with you. We live next door to the old house-we turned it into a furniture shop. We have three children now, two boys and a girl."
Then his eyes landed on the girl at the back of the room, and he extended his hand to her. "You've grown so much, Lule."
She blinked, stunned. "You remember me?"
"I remember the sound of your feet chasing chickens," he said with a crooked grin. "And how you used to call me Joni because you couldn't say my name right."
She gave a watery laugh. "You still look like Babi, just less scary."
Aria clung to his hand, eyes swimming. "You have to stay. Just for a few days. "
"I will," he promised.
Later that evening, after the guests had moved into the dining room and the conversation had lightened, Erjon and Aria found a quiet corner in the sunroom, the soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses distant behind them.
"I couldn't save you from that monster. I felt so...inadequate," he said quietly. "If only I hadn't gone out. If only I had come back sooner. And then you both disappeared... I didn't even know if you were dead or alive... And then-"
"You don't have to-" Aria began.
"No. Let me." He stared out at the dark garden, voice low. "When I got out of the hospital and I could walk again, I came back, but you were gone. Nobody knew what had happened. Our neighbours had buried Mami and Babi in the back garden."
Aria closed her eyes, her hand tightening over his.
"I had their bodies moved," he continued, his eyes staring at nothing as he remembered. "To the village cemetery. We couldn't do the ghusl-the washing. It was too late for that. But I said the prayer. I placed a marker for both."
Her throat tightened, but her voice was steady. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You did all you could, Erjon. You saved my life. That's more than anyone could have asked. "
His eyes shimmered. "I always wondered if you were alive. If you were safe."
"I am," she said. "Crispin...he's a good man. He loves me more than life. And the baby. He's been there through all of it."
He smiled. "You're happy?"
She nodded. "I am now."
A beat of time passed in a comfortable silence.
"I have two nephews and a niece I can't wait to meet."
He grinned. "They'll love you. And Elira's going to cry her eyes out when she sees you."
Silence reigned again as they sat with hands still clasped. It was the kind of lull that only comes after years of absence and the miracle of a return against all odds.
And in that moment, under the quiet night sky, the past didn't vanish, but it loosened its rigid grip just a little.
And as the night unfolded, she sat between the man she loved and the brother she'd thought was lost forever, and all was well in her world as she cradled the child growing in her womb .
And after a long, long time, she felt whole.
Later that night, when the laughter had faded into echoes and the dishes were stacked in the kitchen, the house finally fell into hush.
Lule and Rahul had taken one of the guest bedrooms. Erjon had assumed they were married, and no one had bothered to correct him. Crispin had had another guest room readied for Erjon, freshly made with crisp linens and a handmade lavender sachet tucked under the pillow.
Outside, the patio was quiet. The November air, unusually warm, carried the scent of distant woodsmoke and damp leaves. Aria and Crispin sat on the swing, nestled together, the old chain creaking gently as Crispin set the rhythm with one foot on the ground, the other curled beneath him.
They were wrapped in a quilt Aria had made for them-a large patchwork of scarlet, ochre, and burnished gold, stitched with small embroidered squares, each one a moment from their journey.
A tiny grey square for the café where they'd first met for coffee.
A dark blue for the night he found her again.
A gold-edged square with the words "Twenty weeks: heartbeat like thunder."
A crimson patch sewn with "Sunset in Harlech. "
Her hand rested in his, his thumb tracing the curve of the ring on her finger, the yellow sapphire glowing in the patio light.
"I love you," Aria whispered, her head nestled beneath his chin.
Crispin kissed her hair. "Love you, too," he murmured. "I've never been surer of anything."
They swung together for a while, wrapped in warmth and the hush of night.
"I want to marry you before the baby gets here," he said suddenly.
Aria looked up at him, her eyes glinting with quiet joy. "Okay," she said. "Can we do something small? Just family and a few friends."
He smiled. "Of course. Will tomorrow be too soon?"
She rolled her eyes. "Four weeks. I need to find a circus tent that fits."
"One."
"Three."
"Two. "
"Deal."
"Deal."
He grinned and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll persuade your brother to stay."
She turned fully towards him, her expression tender and unwavering. "You have my heart."
Crispin looked at her like she'd just handed him the world. "And I'll keep it safe," he said softly.
The swing creaked on, slow and even, carrying them into a quiet future they were finally ready to step into together.
After a while, Aria shifted slightly, her hand still resting in Crispin's.
"Now," she murmured, tilting her head back to look at him, "who's going to break the news to Erjon that we're not actually married yet?"
Crispin barked a soft laugh.
They both grinned.
"Nope," he said, raising a hand in mock surrender .
"I'm carrying your child, I think I've done enough."
"Fine. But I'm getting backup. Maybe Lule."
They laughed again, and the sound drifted into the warm November night, light and easy.
Wrapped in the quilt of all their milestones, they let the night cradle them, hearts stitched together in ways no paper or ceremony could ever match.
*Zemra ime-my heart